


possibilities

by spacebubble



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bittersweet, Coda, Empathy, Episode Related, Episode: s05e12 The Begotten, Ficlet, M/M, Minor Character Death, Parenthood, hey. let odo be a father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 21:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12490876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebubble/pseuds/spacebubble
Summary: “Do you ever think about having children?”Quark hadn't, but then he does. And life continues to happen, either way.





	possibilities

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during and after "[The Begotten](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/The_Begotten_\(episode\))," loosely inspired by [this post](http://starsintheskysandsontheshore.tumblr.com/post/164640279073/are-there-any-fics-of-odo-and-quark-having-a), but a few others on tumblr as well. :) 
> 
> (The quodo is mostly in Quark's head at this point, but not necessarily entirely...)
> 
> mood music: [jesus, etc.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efq95Pfqt5U)

“Do you ever think about having children?”

Quark stared at Odo’s blissful face and immediately started panicking.

That was _not_ a question he had ever thought he would hear from Odo, at any point in time - much less in his bar in the dead of night.

His thoughts began racing at warp speed.

Was Odo suggesting… making a baby?

With him?

Would the Changeling be drunk enough to do that? Or try to?

Quark squirmed in his seat. He crossed his legs.

He tried not to think about Odo pushing him towards a bed and making slow hard love to him, because it felt too illicit to do so when Odo was rummaging through his bottles right there, smirking with a drunken gleam in his eyes, like someone ready to shove aside his clothes and pocket his latinum afterwards without a care.

Would that be such a bad thing? Would he even mind?

Quark let out a weak, "Huh?"

He didn't know if he wanted the counter to remain in between them, to block his access, to shield him, or -

Well, what would he do with a drunken Odo?

 _Nothing_ , his stupid deviant morals told him. _You'd take him back to his quarters and pick his lock if he couldn't remember the security code himself. Or you'd dump him on your bed and sleep on the couch. Or something else completely unrelated to making, well, anything._

_Now, if Odo were drunk at the dabo wheel, maybe you’d let him play an altered spin or two, but..._

But then Odo started talking about the baby Changeling back in the lab, and Quark stopped speculating so wildly, though his thoughts still whirred furiously in the background, even as he went through the motions of picking up the drink Odo had made for him.

As part of Quark focused entirely on Odo’s introspection, another part of his mind wondered if Odo would want to adopt other children - with him - and what kind of children Odo might want to adopt…

Other baby Changelings? Orphans of other alien races? Not Ferengi children - all babies were the products of long-negotiated contracts on Ferenginar, orphans barely ever existed anymore, most contracts had contingency plans addressing at least three different potential guardians in the event of an untimely death…

Quark was seized with a sudden vision of a menagerie of multicultural orphans running around the station. Mostly Bajoran war orphans, probably. But knowing Odo’s instinctive protectiveness over even a Jem’Hadar, Quark suspected Odo wouldn’t be choosy about any potential adoptee’s background, as long as they needed a parent…

Oh. Odo had stopped talking.

He was laughing, even.

Quark laughed as well, relieved at the sight and sound of Odo achieving some kind of inner peace, or serenity, or whatever the hell it was when someone’s existential crisis became at least partially resolved.

He tossed back some of the drink Odo had mixed - not bad, maybe he could teach Odo how to mix a real beverage sometime - and prepared himself for another.

But then the computer chimed in.

_Biomimetic fluctuations?_

From the way Odo’s face faltered, Quark knew it couldn’t be a good thing.

He tried not to look too concerned as Odo rushed out of the bar, leaving him alone again, empty glass in hand.

 

* * *

 

Understandably, Bashir didn’t want to bring up the infant Changeling’s fate at the O’Briens’ party for their newborn child.

It was only when Quark pressed him for an update, and only after they had relocated to a quiet corner away from the new parents, that Bashir whispered the update to him.

Well.

No wonder Odo wasn’t there.

Quark supposed he must have looked glum, because Bashir clapped him on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile.

“Chin up, Quark. At least Odo’s regained his Changeling abilities,” Bashir said, determined to look on the bright side of things. “That’s something worth smiling over, isn’t it?”

Quark sighed. “You’re right.” He smiled. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Good man.” Bashir clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about Odo. He’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” Quark replied, but Bashir was already walking away.

Alone again, Quark glanced down at the drink in his hand, thinking.

Well, he wasn’t ready to be a father, anyway.

Especially not to a baby Changeling.

Especially not with Odo.

Not that Odo had even offered, but still.

He had already gone through the motions of raising a child, and look where that got him - a nephew in Starfleet, going where no Ferengi had ever gone before. No, Quark wasn't interested in a repeat of that.

(And could he bear seeing yet another lobeling, no matter what the race, grow up and blossom and become independent - just to risk their life? Instead of risking only their money, like a good Ferengi?)

He tossed back his drink, then went to get another.

 

* * *

 

Quark heard the sound of wings before he saw the hawk fly into the bar.

For a second, he considered calling Security, when he remembered what Bashir had told him at the party.

( _“And then he transformed into some type of bird -”_

_“Let me guess,” Quark said. “A Tarkalean Hawk?”_

_“Why yes,” Bashir replied. “How did you know?”_ )

The hawk made a loop around the bar’s ceiling, quietly circling the air, before swooping back down.

Quark blinked as the hawk flew past him.

The tip of the hawk’s wing brushed against his face, tickling his cheeks and nose in a featherlight touch that seemed too delicate to be real. Almost like a caress. Or maybe the movement of a bird that misjudged its proximity to Quark. That seemed more likely.

With a decidedly un-hawklike grunt, the hawk landed on the stool on the opposite side of the counter from Quark.

It eyed him for a moment, cocking its head, before its entire body seemed to melt and expand and go translucent, rippling and shifting in an astounding display of metamorphosis, until the old familiar figure of a solemn Changeling in a solemn security uniform sat in front of Quark, head still cocked, eyes still focused on him and him alone.

A wry smile twisted up the corners of Quark’s mouth.

 _Show-off_.

But he was glad to see Odo back to normal again, more or less.

“Evening, Odo.”

Odo grunted another decidedly un-hawklike grunt in acknowledgement, then folded his arms.

He didn’t seem inclined to speak.

Quark let the smile fade.

“Hey, Odo.”

“Hm?”

“I heard about the baby Changeling.”

Odo nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I...”

Another nod.

Okay. So Odo didn’t feel like talking. That was fine. A relief, really.

Quark looked at Odo for a moment, then glanced down, trying to figure out what to do next.

He forgot what he had been doing - mixing a drink?

Was anyone waiting for a drink?

Well, if there was, they could probably wait a little longer.

He pulled out a glass for himself, then started rummaging around for the bottles Odo had pulled out the other night.

Even though he wasn’t looking at Odo anymore, and Odo wasn’t making a sound, he could still tell Odo hadn’t left.

Quark poured the ingredients, roughly guessing at the amounts Odo had used, then decided to add in a few extras.

He set down the glass on the counter in between himself and Odo. The resulting mixed drink took on a pleasant gradient - gold at the bottom, warming up to a brilliant rosy blush at the top.

“What do you call that?” Odo asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Don’t know.” Quark flicked his gaze up at Odo. “It’s new. Doesn’t have a name yet.”

Odo held Quark’s gaze, but still didn’t say anything.

Taking a deep breath, Quark broke eye contact to look back down at the drink. He eyed the glass critically, then said, “Kind of reminds me of dawn over the ocean.”

Odo chuckled softly. “It does.”

They both looked at the drink in silence for a moment, then Quark picked it up.

He lifted the glass up in a toast.

“To what could have been,” Quark said solemnly, and he would have started drinking from the glass, when Odo reached out and grasped his wrist.

Lightly. Not enough to hurt.

Just enough to still Quark’s hand.

“To the future,” Odo corrected. His fingers felt cool to the touch where they encircled Quark’s wrist. “To new beginnings, and to second chances.”

Quark blinked rapidly.

His face felt warm. He wondered if it might resemble the drink.

“Good toast,” Quark said, and Odo released his wrist.

“Yes.”

Odo watched him down the unnamed drink, and Quark wondered if the Changeling missed being able to drink. If he missed anything about being a solid.

As soon as Quark set the empty glass down, Odo got up out of his seat.

“Good night, Quark.”

Quark considered asking any number of questions, offering any kind of help -

But all he said was, “Night, Odo.”

One more nod.

Then, as Odo turned away, he turned into a hawk again, soaring out of the bar’s doors with a startlingly loud cry.

Quark watched him go, then looked back down at the empty glass on the counter.

He picked it up and began mixing another drink.


End file.
